Page 62 of Cunning Lies
I want to believe her, so I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her neck. Perhaps she’s playing me. Pretending like she’s the housewife of my dreams. Maybe candle-making is an alibi to get her out of snooping. The door was open to my office the day after our wedding. Even if I left it unlocked, I’dneverleave the door open. She was in there.
“You okay?” she asks, reading my mood. I put on a fake smile. I’ve got no proof, so there’s no reason to be on her case yet.
“Areyouokay?” I ask. After all, I’m not the one who lost a cousin.
“I told Uncle Jay,” she says. She sniffles—she fucking sniffles. My gut sinks. Even if it’s a fake performance, it breaks me. I don’t regret what I did, but I still wish I could take away that pain from her. To go back in time and kill Patrick long before we ever met.
“I told him that Patrick got caught stealing Shabu Eight. He’s convinced that we’re next.”
It may be a lie to make me sympathize with her, but I can’t stop myself from shaking my head in disbelief. Why do I care so much about her? She’s just supposed to be my stand-in date for social events. An arranged marriage. Not my chosen wife.
I’m sorry that he raped you,I want to say.That he pretended to protect you. That he manipulated you into thinking that raping you was okay. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you long before your uncle walked into our casino.
“You’re safe,” I whisper. “I’m sorry it hurt you.”
“Patrick was an idiot,” she says nervously, her eyes fixed on the candles in front of her. “But you don’t get to choose your family.”
Those words hang in the air. I understand where she’s coming from. Her parents were killed, and she’s lucky that Jay is the one who took care of her. Hell,I’mlucky that she wasn’t put into a better home, because then, we wouldn’t be here right now. She wouldn’t be my wife.
She’d probably be better off with some straight businessman, making babies and living in that dream home she’s always wanted.
But Jay brought me his niece. At the very least, I can thank him for that.
“I had a good home,” I say out of the blue.
She wipes out the double broiler with a paper towel, the partially cooled wax collecting on the paper.
“Huh?” she asks.
“Back in Los Angeles. With my biological parents,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “But I didn’t want to be a doctor. Or an engineer. Didn’t want to be a lawyer. I didn’t even want to go to school. But my parents put everything into my academic future. Private tutors. Violin lessons. Extracurriculars that I didn’t care about. I started sneaking out as soon as I could. Stole shit. Got into fights.” I settle into a seat at the dining table and put my head in my hands. Looking back, I know I was an ungrateful idiot for doing that to them, but as a kid, my entire world was run by instinct and desires. If I’m being honest, my world still is. I’ve just got more perspective now. “They’re better off without me.”
Still are.
“You weren’t, like, sold into the yakuza, were you?” she asks.
I laugh. “You think we do child trafficking?”
“I don’t know what the Endo-kai is capable of.”
“Fair enough,” I say, though it’s slightly insulting. If Tomo had heard her, he’d be pissed, so I’m glad it’s just us right now. Vi twists open a new bottle of fragrance oil.
“What happened?” she finally asks.
And suddenly, I’m in those memories, staring up at my old middle school. All looming brick and failure. A lump forms in my throat.
“There was this early admittance exam for middle schoolers to take classes at the university. With special permissions, I could have taken classes at UCLA,” I explain. I laugh; it seems so stupid now. “But I hadn’t studied, and with the little amount of free time I had, I didn’t want to spend it in college. I wanted to be on my own.”
I wring the back of my neck. I was such a spoiled brat back then, and it took me years to figure that out. By then, I was already part of the yakuza. Luckily, Tomo has always workedwithme. He knows I can’t stay still. It’s why he’s given me multiple jobs.
And it’s not like my parents would take me back anyway.
“I hitch-hiked to Vegas,” I explain. “It was a long ride.”
Vi gives a half-smile from the kitchen. “I bet.”
“I ended up outside of this little casino that Tomo used to run protection rackets for. If it had been any of thewakashu—yakuza soldiers, that is—I would’ve gotten the shit kicked out of me.” I chuckle, remembering the way Tomo looked at me like I was a cold, dirty mouse trapped in a cage, crying for help. “But because it was Tomo, I got a bed and a house to clean. ‘Work it off,’ he had said. He didn’t even question whether or not I’d accept his offer.”
“And did you?”
